


Tattooed Heart

by iisaax



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Deaf Clint Barton, Disabled Character, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Multi, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Slow Burn, author doesn't know anything about running a business
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-08-05 14:42:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16369553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iisaax/pseuds/iisaax
Summary: Bucky Barnes isn’t a recluse. Heisn’t.Sure, he only leaves his room to piss and go to the store when he runs out of microwave meals, but he’s not a recluse. Okay, maybe he’s a recluse.-Or, the Stucky flower shop and tattoo parlour AU that we all desperately need





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'M BACK FROM THE DEAD! Haha.
> 
> I've been wanting to post something like this for forever and just now got around to it. I'm posting as I write in my free time, so expect somewhat random updates. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Edit: THIS WORK IS CURRENTLY ON HIATUS! A lot of life stuff has happened this year and I haven't had the time or motivation to write anything ' But rest assured this work isn't completely abandoned!! And I'm still active on the internet if you wanna look me up :-) See you later <3 <3

Bucky Barnes isn’t a recluse. He  _ isn’t _ . 

Sure, he only leaves his room to piss and go to the store when he runs out of microwave meals, but he’s not a recluse. Okay, maybe he’s a recluse. But Winifred Barnes doesn’t have to know that. Every Wednesday, Bucky’s apartment is magically free of takeout boxes and dirty clothes, and decorated with the bunches of flowers that always seem to accumulate when Winnie is in town. And every Wednesday, Bucky takes his mom out to dinner, and tries to pretend it’s not the first real meal he’s had all week, and always leaves with yet another bouquet of flowers.

“It’s an off-season!” she always drawls, waving a hand at his protests. “You’ll get more use out of them than anyone at the shop will.” 

Barnes’ Bouquets, the shop in question, never seems to run out of off-seasons. At least, they do until Winnie catches a cold she can’t seem to shake in her old age. 

It becomes a permanent off-season when the cold turns into pneumonia. Bucky stops cleaning after that. It’s not until his sister Rebecca convinces him to move into Winnie’s empty flat that he cleans again.

He’s bringing in the last of the boxes from his truck when he sees it. Or rather, he hears it from Becca, who nearly drops her own box pointing. 

“‘Shield Tattoo’!” she gasps at Bucky.

Bucky raises his eyebrows, shifting the box tucked under his arm in a meaningful way. Becca scurries over and opens the door for him, then flicks her chin back towards the shop across the street.

“‘Shield Tattoo’! You never told me mom lived across from  _ ‘Shield Tattoo’!! _ ”

“What the hell is ‘Shield Tattoo’?” Bucky sets down his box on the front counter and uses the hem of his shirt to wipe his forehead, peeking up at Becca. “Am I supposed to know about this?”

Becca rolls her eyes, putting down her own on a precarious tower of other boxes. “It’s the best parlor in Brooklyn. The owner is damn good! I follow him on Instagram. Here,” She shimmies her phone out of its confines in her back pocket and taps through a few screens until she’s shoving her phone into Bucky’s face. “Look!”

He squints at the light - brightness all the way up, really, Becca? - and pulls his head back to look. She uses a finger to scroll down his feed. It’s pretty impressive, but they’re really getting off track here, and Bucky ducks under her arm to head back outside for any remaining boxes.

“We should go say hello!” she calls after him. “You need friends, Buck!”

Bucky shrugs a shoulder and steps off the sidewalk, letting the door close behind him. There are no more boxes in the truck bed, and the backseat is empty, too, so he locks it up and sneaks a peek at Shield Tattoo. The storefront is too dark to see inside, so it must be closed, and there’s a huge sign jutting out from beside the door of a red and blue shield with a white star in the middle. It’s almost tempting to follow Becca up on her offer to go check it out. Almost. Bucky pockets the keys to his dad’s old pickup and manages to re-enter the shop without looking back. 

Becca is still flicking through pictures inside, perched on the tall pile of boxes she created. Bucky plucks the phone from her hands and shuts it off, putting it in his back pocket and hoisting up a crate from the counter. 

“Dude,” Rebecca protests, hopping off her pile. “Give it back!”

“Not until all the boxes are upstairs!” Bucky calls over his shoulder, already heading up.

He can hear Becca groan and mumble to herself, and can’t help but smile.

It takes just under fifteen minutes to move all Bucky’s stuff upstairs. He doesn’t own much. After the last of it is moved, Becca gives him a tearful hug, and all but forces him to promise to call her more often. 

“I promise,” Bucky says, and he means it.

After handing over the keys to the truck, Bucky watches her leave and totally does not get misty-eyed, thank you very much. He glances around for any witnesses, then wipes his eyes on a sleeve and heads back inside. 

-

First thing in the morning, Bucky orders more flowers. Winnie left enough profit from the holiday season to restock the entire store, and Bucky thanks his lucky stars for online purchasing, where he doesn’t have to talk on the phone. He’s never been quite good at that since coming home.

It takes three days for the flowers to ship, and another for them to be delivered. In the meantime, Bucky sorts through his crap and lives off hospitality food. He doesn’t know how much longer he can eat casseroles without turning into one. 

When the flowers finally arrive one early Saturday morning, Bucky signs for them, then is left with a sidewalk full of vases he can’t easily carry.

It’s really the little things that suck the most about missing an arm. Like having to prop open the door and let cold air in while bringing in one vase at a time. And pushups. And getting dressed. And everything else. He picks up a vase.

-

By the time all of the flowers are inside, Bucky’s pretty sure his remaining arm is going to get hypothermia too and fall off and he’ll have to develop telekinesis or something. He finally pulls the door closed and tries to regain feeling in his hand as he maneuvers among vases over to the computer to file away the new flowers. 

He’s just logging in to the system when there’s a knock at the window. Bucky stills. Maybe if he ignores it it’ll go away. Another knock. He peers over the monitor.

There’s a dude pressed against the window with his hands cupping his face. His breath is fogging the glass, so Bucky can’t see his face clearly. There’s a dog wrapped around one of his legs. He knocks again. 

Bucky rolls his eyes and hops off the stool. He makes his way back over to the door and unlocks it, opening it just enough to stick his head out. 

“We’re closed,” he frowns at the dude.

The dude pulls away from the window and scrubs the condensation from his face. He nearly trips on his dog stepping back and flings his arms out trying to regain his balance. Then, he straightens up and finally looks at Bucky, grinning. It’s…

“Clint Barton?”

Clint fucking Barton grins wider, and stuffs his hands in his pockets and comes over, being careful not to trip on - what was his dog’s name? - Lucky this time. “Yeah, hey man!”

Bucky steps out and finds himself in a hug. Clint pats his back in the way that all straight dudes seem to do and then lets go, still beaming. 

“How have you been? Doing okay? I heard about, er…”

Bucky forces himself to smile, but it’s actually easier than he thought it would be. “As good as I can be, I guess” he mumbles, then shifts awkwardly. “Do you… wanna come inside?”

“Yeah! Yeah, let me…” Clint starts to tie Lucky up to a bike rack, but Bucky stops him. 

“He can come with,” Bucky says. “But make sure he doesn’t eat any flowers. I just ordered those.”

They go inside, and Clint has Lucky sit and stay by the front door. Lucky eyes some orchids, but does as he’s told.

“So you’re a florist now,” Clint hops up onto the counter and dangles his feet. “Can’t say I saw  _ that  _ coming.”

“Yeah,” Bucky huffs, squatting down to lift a vase. “Neither did I.”

Clint watches him shelf flowers one by one for a bit, uncharacteristically quiet. Bucky’s just about to ask him what’s up when Clint asks, “You need some help?”

Bucky sticks a sprig of baby’s breath into the vase he’s working on, frowning. “I’m fine.”

Clint jumps off the counter and kneels down to pick up two vases. He places them on the counter and goes back for more. Show-off. Bucky goes back to arranging his bouquet.

Clint stays all morning, and Bucky’s friend count grows to one.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter today :-) Posting this from my phone — let me know if you spot any errors.

Clint ends up helping Bucky stock the whole store. They’re able to open that next Monday. And much to Bucky’s displeasure, there are immediately customers. Clint hovers around assisting in any way he can, but neither of them really know anything about arranging flowers, so they quickly realize they have to call in reinforcements.

Reinforcements end up being some scrawny kid that wanders in after Clint posts a help wanted sign. He’s just out of high school, but knows more about composition (and bugs, weirdly?) than either of them, so Clint hires him on the spot. 

“Can you even hire people? You don’t work here,” Bucky eyes him.

Clint just shrugs. “Might as well. No offense, but you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Neither do you.”

Clint shrugs again, grinning.

The kid, Peter, is a huge help. He runs the counter while Bucky makes bouquets that he thinks look kind of okay and pours over books Winnie left about the language of flowers, and while Clint kind-of-but-not-really handles deliveries and shipments. Bucky’s still not 100% sure if he works here or not.

Peter also quickly introduces the two of them to the coffee shop a bit down the street. 

“If I see you drinking out of that nasty coffee pot one more time,” Peter laughs, untying the scarf from around his neck. “I’m probably gonna lose my mind. Or my lunch.”

“Sorry I’m not keen on what kids are drinking these days,” Clint pulls open the door, rolling his eyes. Peter sticks out his tongue. Clint sticks out his. Bucky pushes past them into the shop, more than ready to get the hell out of the cold.

There are a few people inside, but most of the tables are empty, and Bucky makes a beeline for the back corner. He scoots into the booth, watching Peter and Clint go up to the counter. 

The dark-skinned man working the register turns from what he was doing and immediately grins. Bucky can see he has a cute gap in his teeth. “Oh, Lord. Nat,” he calls towards the back, “Get the juicebox!”

“Ha ha,” Peter deadpans, tucking his scarf under his arm. “I graduated, Sam, you can’t say that anymore.”

“Sure I can,” Sam laughs. “What’ll it be? You know, besides the juice.”

“Medium Americano, please. With room. Clint?”

Clint blinks, then looks at Peter. “What?”

“What d’you want?”

“Oh, uh…” Clint searches the menu hanging on the wall like he’s just remembered where he is. “Hot chocolate?”

“Sure, man,” Sam smiles at him and rings it up. Clint blinks again, and when he glances over at Bucky his cheeks are warm.

_ You want coffee?  _ Clint signs in Bucky’s direction, motions a little stilted.

_Sure_ , Bucky responds. _I-C-E-D_ _L-A-T-T-E_?

“A-and an iced latte,” Clint tells Sam. “With, uh, sugar.”

Sam hums, adding it to their order, and Peter looks between him and Clint with squinted eyes.

The two of them pay, then come and sit down. Peter’s drink is ready first, and as he leaves to grab it, Bucky elbows Clint. “Hot chocolate?”

“I panicked!” Clint cries.

“Way to be racist, Clint.”

Clint glares at him. “You know it’s not that.”

Bucky’s about to ask him what exactly  _ it  _ is, when Peter returns with the Americano and the latte. Bucky takes his with a thanks, and Clint scoots out of the booth, ready for his order. Bucky takes a long sip of his coffee and eyes Clint at the counter. Sam slides Clint’s hot chocolate towards him and Clint takes it. He flinches and blushes again when their hands touch.  _ Oh _ .

Clint returns to the booth, a little sheepish, and sits down next to Bucky.

“Clint,” Bucky starts.

“Bucky,” Clint responds, just as clipped.

“Peter,” Peter says.

“Is there something you’d like to share with the class?” Bucky takes a sip of his drink.

Clint purses his lips, and suddenly his hot chocolate is really interesting. “Um…”

Peter suddenly sticks his hand in the air and waves. A beat, then Bucky can see a red-haired woman approach from behind the counter. 

“Parker,” she smiles. “Haven’t seen you here in awhile. How have you been? Liking the graduated life?”

Peter nods seriously, eyes wide. “Definitely.”

The woman smiles again, calculated but warm. “Glad to hear it. Who are your friends?”

“Clinton Barton,” Clint barks, sticking his hand out. “But you can call me Clint.” He’s even redder than before. Bucky puts his forehead in his hand.

The woman’s smile doesn’t fade, bless her, and she takes his hand, shaking it. “Natasha. And you are?”

“James Barnes,” Bucky replies, not daring to look up. He would bet his arm that Clint’s still shaking her hand. “But you can call me Bucky,” he adds, lips twitching.

“Nice to meet you both,” Natasha says, and yep, Clint’s still shaking her hand. Damn. Bucky’s gonna miss his arm.

Sam walks up at that point, thank God, and slides a hand around Natasha’s waist. Clint lets go of Natasha’s hand and starts chugging his hot chocolate. Bucky resists the urge to hide again.

“Nat, you left me all alone back there,” Sam grins at her. “Come on, it’s almost lunch.”

Nat places a hand on his cheek. “Sorry,  _ dear _ ,” she drawls, then her boots click back towards the register. Sam smiles one last time at the table, then follows her.

Clint slams his hot chocolate down like a shot and drops his head back against the booth.

“Fuck my life,” he groans. “We can never come back here.”

“No way, dude,” Peter says, scandalized. “I’ve been a customer since middle school.”

Bucky finishes off his drink, realizes Peter paid for it, and his friend count grows from one to two.


	3. Chapter 3

Bucky figures out what the hell he’s doing over the next week or so. He officially hires Clint and Peter, and with their combined efforts Barnes’ Bouquets is once again running smoothly. That doesn’t mean they have nearly as many customers as Winnie did, though.

Bucky is leaning on his elbow, tapping a beat onto his cheekbone and watching people pass by the store window. Every now and then, he thinks someone might be headed in, but they usually just turn and take the crosswalk right outside, towards Shield Tattoo. Bucky tries not to get jealous.

Bucky is just letting his eyelids fall when the bell above the door chimes and he jerks awake. 

“Welcome to-! Oh,” Bucky closes his eyes again. “Hey Clint.”

Clint doesn’t say anything, which is a little odd, but Bucky can hear him hang up his coat and yawn loudly. Then, “Hey! Just finished a delivery, you’ll never guess where!”

Bucky flinches, still not opening his eyes. “Clint. Why are you yelling. It’s too early.”

Clint doesn’t respond again and Bucky looks up at him. He’s patting his jeans. “Uh, dude?” he turns towards Bucky. “Have you seen my hearing aid?”

“Oh, shit.” Bucky sits up, and starts signing.  _ Forget them at D-E-L-I-V-E-R-Y _ ?

Clint frowns.  _ I don’t know. How did I not notice?? _

_ I don’t know! You have extra? _

_ No way! Shit’s expensive!! _

Bucky rolls his eyes.  _ You have to go back!  _

_ Guess I have to. Damn. Thought I was done for the day.  _ Clint grabs his coat.

The bell above the door rings, and a woman in bright red lipstick walks in.

“Welcome to Bar-!”

“Peggy!” Clint shouts over Bucky. “Please tell me you have my- yessss.”

Peggy, Bucky guesses, laughs, and hands over Clint’s hearing aid. When she speaks, she has an accent, “You left them on the counter after Steve geeked out over you knowing sign language. Luckily I spotted them shortly afterwards.”

Clint finishes putting his aid back in. “You’re an angel. Bucky, this is Peggy. She works at Shield Tattoo. Peggy, this is Bucky. He works, uh, here.”

Peggy peers around Clint and gives a small wave. Bucky can see that her arm is covered in floral tattoos. “Hello,” she smiles. “I’ve actually got to get going - I have an appointment at ten - but it was nice meeting you!” 

“Bye, Peggy!” Clint opens the door for her. She gives Bucky one last wave, then her curls bounce as she walks away. It almost makes Bucky self-conscious of his own hair. It’s gotten long over the years since he was discharged, and he doesn’t bother doing anything to it. The bell chimes as Clint closes the door and Bucky remembers he has to speak out loud again.

“Shield Tattoo, huh?” he asks. “How was it?”

“Dude,” Clint puts his coat back on the coat hanger for the second time and hops up onto a stool near the counter. “So much cooler than I thought. I like, want a tattoo now. Or a piercing, you know? I wanna support their business. The main artist is  _ incredible _ .”

Bucky leans back onto his hand. “So I’ve heard.”

Clint nods. “I’m serious about wanting something. Would you come with me?”

“I don’t know…What would you get?”

“I’ve always kinda wanted my ears pierced,” Clint grins. “What about you? Would you ever get anything done?”

“Hell no,” Bucky laughs. “I fuckin’ hate needles.”

Clint shrugs, and then an actual customer comes in, so he jumps off of his stool and starts acting busy. Bucky sits up and gives his best smile, mind still on Shield Tattoo.

-

Shield Tattoo ends up being mentioned again later that same day when Peter mentions his friend Wanda that wants to get an apprenticeship there, and again the next day when Clint looks up their prices on the store computer instead of restocking like he was supposed to be doing. And again when they grab coffee during lunch and Sam shows Clint the tattooed wings on his biceps, and also possibly just his biceps? Bucky doesn’t really want to know.

After the probably millionth time it comes up, Bucky finally agrees to go with Clint to get his ears pierced. 

“Really?” Clint all but squeals. 

“Yeah, go grab your shit,” Bucky shoos him away. Clint gives him a quick but crushing hug, and runs toward the back to grab his stuff, nearly running over Peter, who narrowly jumps out the way, looking up at Bucky with wide eyes.. 

“Are we going to Shield Tattoo??” he gasps.

Bucky nods, feeling more and more like a dad telling his kids they’re going to Disneyland. Peter jumps nearly three feet in the air and disappears in a whirlwind to grab his backpack.

In record time, Bucky is leading them out of the door and locking up, fiddling with his keys in the light of the streetlamp. Then, they’re off, Bucky leading so they don’t get run over, Clint and Peter following behind, chattering excitedly. 

Once they’re finally in front of the parlor, Bucky finds himself really nervous. He takes a deep breath. Why is he nervous? It’s just a stupid tattoo place. He pushes open the door.

Inside, Peggy looks up from the front desk and waves.

“Hello Clint, Bucky!”

Peter waves back shyly. “Peter.”

“And Peter,” she smiles. “What can I help you all with?”

Clint rushes over to the display case of piercings and squats down, nose nearly touching the glass. “I wanna get my ears pierced,” he beams up at her. 

“Tony is busy with a client right now, but he should be finishing up soon if you don’t mind waiting.”

“I don’t mind,” Clint squishes his nose back against the case. “Do you have any purple ones?”

While Peggy helps Clint pick out a set of studs, Bucky wanders around and looks at the art on the walls. It’s all intricate linework and color theory and wow, okay. This guy  _ is _ good. What was his name?

“Steve?” Peggy calls toward one of the hallways veering off of the main room. “Do we have any 18g in purple back there? Can you look in Tony’s station?”

“One second,” calls a deep voice, and Bucky’s ears perk up. “Can’t hear you.” 

Bucky looks over at Peter, who is being nearly swallowed by a huge couch, but he doesn’t seem to be having the same reaction. 

“Okay, yeah?” comes the voice. Bucky turns back towards the counter and standing in the doorway wiping his hands on a towel is possibly the tiniest and most tattoo-covered man Bucky’s ever seen. 

“Do we have any purple 18g earrings?” Peggy asks him.

The man - Steve, Bucky assumes - purses his lips and squints in a really cute way. “Not sure. Let me check Tony’s station.”

Bucky picks his jaw up off the ground and looks back over to Peter, who just  _ has _ to be also having a gay crisis. Bisexual crisis? Bucky’s not sure what Peter’s into. Peter just peeks out from his cushion mound and tilts his head like a puppy.

Bucky looks back to Steve, who has turned and is walking back into the hallway to look for the earrings.

“Bucky?” Clint croons, standing up from his position on the floor. “Something you’d like to share with the class?”

Peggy snorts and bursts into laughter, and Bucky’s friend count grows from two to three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter ended kind of abruptly. I'm trying to keep these pretty short. Also, I'm pretty sleep-deprived rn, so let me know if you spot any mistakes. Ha.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh! Thanks for being patient on this one. Finals are kicking my ass!!

Steve is standing with his hands braced on the counter, staring at the wall of drawers where their piercing studs are kept, and trying to keep his breathing in check. He can’t let Peggy - or God,  _ Tony -  _ see the blush that’s taken over his face and probably or most definitely the top half of his chest. If he could just stay in the back for a few more minutes, then maybe-

“Any, ah, reason you’re poking through my stuff, Cap?” 

Steve nearly jumps out of his skin, and spins around, feeling weirdly caught in the act. 

Tony is standing with his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised, towel around his neck. Steve scowls, turning back around.

“Looking for earrings. No reason to give me a heart attack.  _ Jesus _ .”

Tony leans against the counter, pulling the towel from his shoulders and grinning. “Not my fault you didn’t hear me come up.”

“Not my fault either,” Steve shuffles through some packaged earrings, looking for purple. “Sometimes I think you forget I have bad ears.”

“I’m telling you, my dad can make you some aids, free of charge.”

“No offense,” Steve pulls out a package. “But I’m not interested in anything your dad makes.”

Tony raises his hands in surrender. “Trust me, none taken.”

After making sure the size is right, Steve starts back towards the front room, but freezes right before turning the corner. Shit, he forgot about damn Tall Dark and Handsome. Okay, he can do this. Training his face into that unaffected expression he’s long since mastered, Steve walks back into the room and manages to hand over the earrings without looking at TDH. 

Peggy takes the package with a weirdly amused look then shows it to Clint, who nods about a hundred times, beckoning over his friends and oh God, TDH is one of them.

Steve can feel himself tense up as TDH draws nearer but tries not to show it, smiling amicably and leaning against the desk in a way he hopes looks natural.

“Dude,” the college-aged kid says in awe. “Are you gonna go for it?”

“Yes,” Clint replies immediately, handing the package back to Peggy. “Let’s do it.”

While Peggy gets his information and has him fill out a few forms, college-aged kid pokes around at the binder set out, and points out a few designs to TDH. 

“Not even a small one? You could get some badass knuckle tattoos. Y’know, like ‘B-R-O-O-K-L-Y-N.’”

“Sorry to break it to you,” TDH grins lopsidedly, and Steve’s heart skips a beat, “But I only got one hand.”

The college-aged kid’s eyes slowly get wide. “Oh my God. Just… fire me now. I’ll go pack up my-”

TDH grabs the kid’s arm before he can leave. “Peter,” he laughs quietly. “It’s okay.”

“I’ll…be over here,” the kid - Peter? - bemoans, still looking mortified, and sulks over to the couch. 

Clint comes up at about the same time Peter leaves, and hands over his paperwork and ID. Peggy is in the back giving the earrings to Tony, so Steve takes it and gets everything copied and filed. 

“Ever gotten a piercing before?” Steve makes conversation while the copier works. 

“Nope,” Clint chirps. 

“Are you nervous?”

“Yep,” Clint answers in the same tone. Steve laughs, and Peggy comes back in the room.

“Ready, Clint?” she asks.

Clint pales a little bit, but nods and follows her into the back. Steve is left with Peter, who is still hiding in the couch, and TDH, who is flipping through the art binder and nodding appreciatively every now and then. Steve tries to look busy, and nonchalantly tidies up near the area where the binder is set out. 

Nothing is said by anyone in the room for a long while, and Steve can sorta hear Tony talking Clint’s ear off in the other room, and Peggy’s music softly plays over the speakers - some big band piece she’s been into lately - but other than that, it’s quiet. Then, Steve decides to introduce himself properly, and turns to TDH.

“Bucky,” TDH then says a little stiltedly, sticking out his hand. 

Steve closes his mouth, and blinks. “Sorry?”

TDH falters a little bit. “Uh, Bucky. My name’s Bucky.”

“Oh!” Steve wipes his palms on his jeans then takes his hand to shake it and wow, it’s warm, and what were they doing?

Bucky -  _ Bucky  _ \- doesn’t really shake Steve’s hand either, and just kind of grips onto it for dear life, staring down at his own hand like he’s also forgotten what the end goal was.

Steve’s not sure how long they stand there, but approaching voices and footsteps cause them to both let go and silently agree to pretend That Never Happened. Clint walks in first, and makes a beeline for the full length mirror on the opposite wall. 

“Woah,” Clint draws out the word, turning his head back and forth to admire the piercings. 

Bucky walks over towards the mirror to look, thank God, and Steve turns to Peggy with a panicked expression. Peggy just gives a secret smile. 

_ What? _ Steve signs at her with frantic hands.

Peggy puts a finger to her red lips as her smile widens.

Steve scowls at her. She just brushes past him to ring Clint up. Steve busies himself with preparing the aftercare instructions. 

While Clint pays, Bucky pokes around nearby, and Steve tries really hard to not look at him. At this point if they made eye contact again Steve would forget how to breathe and pass out or something.

After Clint’s all set up with his instructions, he heads over towards Peter to rescue him from the confines of the couch cushions, Bucky follows, and Steve exhales a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Maybe he really  _ will  _ pass out. 

“Bye, boys!” Peggy calls as they start to leave. 

“Bye Peggy!!” Peter responds. Clint waves, grinning, and Bucky gives a small smile, glancing at Steve.

Steve finds himself smiling back.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait!!!!!! School is kinda draining my creative energy lately. Thanks for being patient.
> 
> Also WOW! 100 kudos already?? I'm so grateful!
> 
> Enjoy :-)

As soon as they get back to the shop, Clint and Peter pounce on Bucky.

“Dude!” Clint shouts. “I _knew_ you would like him!”

“Like who?” Bucky asks innocently, wriggling out of their grasp and making his way to the front desk.

Peter follows, hopping up onto the counter and tucking his legs up. “Don’t act like I didn’t see you grab Steve’s hand and hold it.”

“WHAT!” Clint all but shrieks, bursting into laughter.

Bucky feels his ears burn hot and tries to disappear into his own shoulders, making a beeline for the stairs up to his apartment, leaving Peter and Clint cracking up behind him.

-

Peter and Clint continue to pester Bucky about The Incident for the next few days. Clint even gets Sam in on it, who makes foam hearts in Bucky’s morning coffee and Nat, who asks if she can cater the wedding. Bucky just scowls and pretends he doesn’t know what they’re talking about. He instead throws himself into work, determined to get better at making arrangements and totally for only that reason. Not to distract himself from blue eyes and soft hands. Surely not.

He’s working on a commission for a couple’s anniversary while Clint’s out for a delivery and Peter’s in the back doing homework, and trying to decide between white carnations and million star baby’s breath - or maybe pink roses and waxflower? - when he gets a call.

Bucky puts away the sprig of baby’s breath he was holding and picks up the store’s phone.

“Barnes’ Bouquets,” he greets, pinning the phone between his shoulder and ear so he can get back to work.

“Hi Bucky!” comes a familiar British voice.

“Hey Peggy. How are you?”

“Never better! But I was actually calling so I can place an order.”

“Oh!” Bucky puts the baby’s breath away again and scoots the vase to the side so he can reach the computer mouse. “One second, please.”

Peggy waits patiently while Bucky logs into the computer and navigates to the new order form.

“Alright. What would you like?”

“I need three small bouquets that I can put around the shop - maybe each a foot in diameter? And it would be grand if they could make the aesthetic of the sign. You’ve seen the sign?”

“Lookin’ at it right now,” Bucky grins, peeking over the monitor to glance at the red, white, and blue sign outside Shield Tattoo.

“Excellent. Do you know when they’ll be ready? I can send someone to pick them up. And pay, of course.”

“I can have them done by the end of the day,” Bucky tells her, finishing up the order form. “You said three, right?”

“Yes, please.”

“Okay - you’re all set.”

“Great! Thank you, Bucky.” Peggy sounds like she really means it, and Bucky smiles.

“‘Course. See you.”

“Bye!” Peggy chirps, and the line goes dead. Bucky puts the phone back on its charger and gets back to work. Waxflowers and roses, he thinks, would look good.

-

After Clint finishes his deliveries and disappears into the back to probably nap on the job, and Peter leaves for the day, Bucky’s finished his commission and the flowers for Peggy. They don’t look half bad; he ended up mixing blue hydrangea, white calla lilies, and red geranium. He’s just adding the finishing touches when the bell above the door rings out and he pokes his head up from the flowers.

“Welcome to-”

Steve looks up, and pauses mid glove-shed.

Bucky nearly swallows his tongue.

“Bah...Barnes’ Bouquets,” he flashes what he hopes is a friendly smile, then suddenly the arrangements are _extremely_ interesting. He can hear Steve stammer a thanks, then walk around the store. Peggy, _why_.

There’s a long silence as Steve pokes around, Bucky finishes the three bouquets, and Clint snores from the back.

“Sorry.”

Bucky pokes his head up again. Steve is looking at the pre-made bouquets. He glances over when he notices Bucky staring.

“S-sorry for what?” Bucky asks him.

Steve bites his lip. “For the other day. I never apologized for making you uncomfortable. So… I’m sorry.”

Bucky blinks. What is he…

Oh. The Incident. Bucky ducks back behind the flowers to hide his blush. “It’s fine, man.” Bucky cringes. Man? He acts busy, tweaking the leaves. “No need to apologize.”

“Are you sure…?” Steve comes up to the counter and Bucky peeks up again. He looks legitimately concerned. “Can I at least… I don’t know. Buy you a coffee? I know a place with a mean cold brew.”

Bucky can feel the corners of his mouth twitch up. He leans off of his stool to peer around the corner into the back. Clint is curled up in the ancient armchair, just starting to wake up.

 _Good morning, sleeping beauty._ Bucky signs. _Can you watch the store?_

Clint squints at him in that just-woke-up kind of way and nods, unfolding his legs from the pretzel they were in.

Bucky sits back on his stool and turns to Steve, who raises his eyebrows and smiles.

“Okay,” Bucky says. “Why not?”

-

Steve pays for the flowers and they drop them off before heading out. As soon as they stop in front of the coffee shop, Bucky instantly regrets agreeing to coffee, or ever moving into his ma’s shop, or maybe even being born, because Steve halts them right in front of Sam’s café.

Bucky’s thinking of ways to avoid Sam seeing him as they push through the slightly crowded room and slip into a corner booth when the man in question pretty much materializes beside their table.

“Bucky!” Sam’s never looked so happy to see him, or happy to see him at all. “And medium cold brew with a little half-and-half. How are y’all?”

Steve laughs, and holds out his hand for a shake. Sam takes it, grinning.

“Steve Rogers,” Steve says. “But you got the order spot on.”

“Nice to put a name to a face,” Sam shakes his hand, then leans back, putting his hands on his hips. “What about you, Barnes? Usual, too?”

“Actually, could I get a cappuccino? Small.”

“You got it.” Sam heads toward the front counter, where Natasha and someone else Bucky doesn’t recognize are mixing drinks.

As Steve shimmies out of his coat, Bucky racks his brain on conversation topics. They don’t have much in common. Clint? A reasonable enjoyment of caffeine? He’s close to telling his whole life story when Steve looks up with his stupidly blue eyes and says, “Sign language, huh?”

Bucky blinks. “Yeah. Knew Clint as a kid and kinda learned it from him. It was definitely easier with two arms, but we make do.”

Steve, bless him, doesn’t press on the arm thing and nods. He lifts a hand to tap below his right ear. “Can’t hear well outta this ear. Learned it as a kid, too, from my ma.”

Sam comes up to their table again and slides over Steve’s cold brew, then carefully sets down Bucky’s cappuccino. There’s no foam heart, thankfully - Bucky was a little worried.

As Bucky sips his drink, Steve talks about the giant tattoo finished that day, and Bucky tells him about some of his craziest customers. Steve groans and laughs at all the right places, his eyes crinkled up and his head thrown back. Bucky never wants it to end.

At some point, after their drinks have long been emptied, Steve glances at his watch and nearly chokes on the piece of ice he was munching on.

“Are you okay?” Bucky starts to stand, but Steve waves him off, coughing.

“Yeah,” he sputters. “Just - excuse me - realized I gotta get back to work. I have a client coming in ten minutes.”

“Oh, um…” Bucky tidies up around his mug then takes out his wallet. “Here, how much was your thing?”

Steve shakes his head, reaching for his own wallet. “Don’t worry about it. Like I said, my treat.”

Bucky tries to get out some cash anyway, but it’s hard with one hand, and Steve beats him to it, tucking several bills under his cup and getting up to shrug on his coat.

“Sorry I have to run. See you later?” Steve smiles.

“Yeah,” Bucky replies, putting his wallet back into his pocket. He tries to think of something charming or funny to say, but can’t think of anything but Steve’s crooked smile. “Yeah.”

Steve leaves, waving, and pretty much as soon as he’s out the door, Sam scurries up to the table. He picks up their empty cups and raises his eyebrows at Bucky. Bucky shrugs, still watching Steve through the front window. Sam rolls his eyes and mumbles something about gay white boys, taking their cups and money to the counter. Bucky lingers at the booth for a bit, committing the last hour or so to memory. He’s about to get up and leave when he stops and leans back against the booth.

Shit. Was that a date?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Happy new year!!
> 
> This chapter took SO long to write for some reason. Thanks for being patient!
> 
> Hope you enjoy :-*

When Bucky gets back to Barnes’ Bouquets, he takes his time removing his glove and jacket, hanging them up next to the door, then meandering over to the front counter. Clint looks about ready to explode, vibrating on his stool. 

He visibly holds back for a second, then bursts, “Well?!”

Bucky leans on the counter, nonchalant. “Well what?”

“How was it?!”

“How was what?”

“Your date!!!”

“Wasn’t a date,” Bucky lies. 

Clint gives him an unimpressed Look. “You left - with Steve - without an explanation - and came back two hours later with a dopey grin on your face.”

“What do you mean,” Bucky forces himself to frown, with some difficulty.

“See!” Clint nearly jolts off of the stool. “You’re still smiling!”

“Shut up,” Bucky pushes off of the counter and turns around, hiding the smile that sneaks back onto his face. He pretends to check on the roses.

“I mean did he ever  _ say _ it was a date? What if he doesn’t think it was one? What if he thinks it  _ was  _ one?”

Bucky turns back around. “Clint,” he says. “Calm down. It wasn’t a date.”

“Whatever, man. I don’t even care,” Clint says, clearly caring. “I just think you guys should be on the same page. Communication, and all that!”

Bucky just shrugs, smile still pulling at his mouth, and heads towards the stairs. “Lock up, will you? It’s almost closing time.”

-

A few weeks go by where Steve doesn’t have a chance to see Bucky. After they went to coffee, Steve planned to visit, but appointments kept flooding in, and he couldn’t find time.

Then suddenly, Steve finds himself with a day off. He decides to take a walk, wandering around the neighborhood. 

He, of course, ends up in front of Barnes’ Bouquets.

Inside he can see Peter sitting behind the counter. He looks bored. When he sees Steve, he perks up and waves. Steve waves back and goes inside.

“Hi Mr. Rogers!” 

“Hey Pete,” Steve replies. “Slow day?”

Peter groans. “You have no idea. Clint’s out on a delivery, so I’m stuck here running the counter and it’s so,” he draws out the word, “boring.”

“Could Bucky run it?”

Peter shrugs. “Dunno. Haven’t seen him in a couple days.”

“Is he okay?” Steve asks, frowning. “He’s not sick, is he?”

Peter shrugs again. “You could go check on him.”

“I don’t want to intrude…” Steve shifts on his feet. “That, and I have no idea where he lives.”

“He’s just upstairs,” Peter points towards a staircase off to the side. “I don’t think he would mind.”

“Well… okay.” Steve slips off his gloves and tucks them into the pocket of his coat. He walks towards the staircase, climbing it carefully. When he reaches the top, he turns a corner and comes to a door. Steve knocks on it.

There’s no response. Steve knocks again. “Bucky?”

There’s some shuffling and creaking as the floorboards inside shift. A few seconds pass, then he can hear a bolt being unlocked, and the door is cracked open. Bucky peers out, leaning his forehead against the doorframe.

“‘Ello?” he mumbles. 

Steve gives a small awkward wave.

Bucky opens the door a little bit more, and Steve can see he’s wearing a comically large sweater, pajama pants, and one sock. After Steve tears his eyes away from the one sock situation, he notices Bucky looks…. really tired. He’s starting to grow stubble.

Steve’s brow creases. “Buck? Are you okay…?”

“What do you want,” he asks, blunt.

Steve puts on his best smile. “I was just wondering if you need anything. Are you sick?”

“M’fine.”

“Are you sure? I can come in and-”

Bucky closes the door so it’s hardly even open. “No.”

Steve tsks. “Come on, let me in Buck, you probably haven’t been outside for-”

Bucky pulls open the door just enough to glower at him. Steve gets a glance of his messy apartment. “I said no. Now fuck off.” Bucky shuts the door with a slam. Steve jumps at the noise.

Steve stares at the door for a while, then knocks again.

There’s no answer. He retreats down the staircase.

“How is he?” Peter asks once Steve reaches the counter.

Steve sighs. “He doesn’t look too good. I think I spotted at least a hundred takeout boxes in there.”

“We have been getting a lot of those driving-delivery-thingies,” Peter points out. Then, quietly, “Do you think he’s gonna be okay, Mr. Rogers?”

“I hope so,” Steve says. He bites the inside of his cheek. What can he do to help Bucky? Without actually entering his apartment, that is. He has to come down at some point. Peter can’t run the flower shop by himself.

“Say,” Steve starts. “How long does it take to order something here?”

-

Bucky wakes the next day to a harsh knock at his door. He burrows deeper into his sheets, willing the noise away. 

Another knock. Steve just doesn’t give up, does he? Bucky flings the blankets off and steps around the accumulation of empty water bottles by his bed. He pushes his hair away from his face and rubs his hand down his cheek.

Bucky stands up, vision doing that fun thing where he almost fucking blacks out, and makes his way to the door. He undoes the bolt, then peeks his head out.

It’s Clint.

“Hey, man,” Clint says. He shifts his arms and Bucky realizes he’s holding a wrapped bouquet. “Delivery.”

Bucky blinks. “Oh.” Is he dreaming?

Clint holds the flowers out. “For you.”

“Oh,” Bucky says again, ever the linguist. He takes the flowers, not really knowing what else to do. Clint gives a dorky salute and turns the corner to descend the stairs.

Bucky looks down at the flowers. He peers down at the card tucked amongst them. 

_ Let me know if you need anything,  _ it reads, followed by a number, and a  _ Steve _ . 

Bucky stares at the number. Steve’s number. That he gave to him. With flowers. 

Bucky really must be dreaming.

He takes the flowers inside, pulling the door closed with his foot. He doesn’t have anything nearby to put them in, so he sets them in the sink.

Bucky looks at the flowers in the better light of his kitchen and can’t help but smile a little bit. 

Yellow carnations, red dahlias, and orange lilies. Disappointment, betrayal, and hatred. 

So Steve does  _ not  _ know the language of flowers. Noted.

Bucky sits down at his kitchen table and fishes his phone out from his pajama pants pocket. He adds Steve’s number to his phone, then proceeds to have a mini crisis about whether or not he should send a text. He ends up sending a quick  _ this is bucky _ , putting the flowers in some water, and crawling back into bed. 

Before he can close his eyes, he gets a response.

_ Hey! I guess my delivery reached you, then :) I hope you like it. Are you feeling better today? _

Bucky reads the message, then rereads it. Steve seems… the opposite of mad at him. Bucky’s not entirely sure why. He was a real jerk the last time Steve checked on him.

Should Bucky tell him the truth? Does Steve really need to know Bucky’s done nothing but wallow in bed and cry about his mom? Does he need to know about the nightmares, and the panic attacks, and the phantom pain? 

Maybe not. 

Is he okay? Bucky thinks back to the flowers sitting in his kitchen. He types out a response and hits send before he can change his mind.

_ i am now _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a pretty good idea on where this story is gonna go, but if any of y’all have any ideas or suggestions, please feel free to send me a message on my twitter, or leave a comment down below :-)) 
> 
> Also! I’m currently working on another serious fic, similar in tone to I and Love and You, so keep an eye out for that in the near future ;-) 
> 
> See you soon!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks as always for reading!
> 
> Title is from the Ariana Grande song of the same name
> 
> tumblr: [highrothgar](%E2%80%9Chighrothgar.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D)
> 
> twitter (new!): [bullseyebucky](%E2%80%9Ctwitter.com/bullseyebucky%E2%80%9D)


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